The story of the night that my inner 13-year-old emerged in all her glory
SCENE: UMB Bank Pavillion: Kelly Clarkson concert. A Monday night in muggy 90 degree St. Louis at 7:00 p.m. The parking lot is filling up fast, and hordes of females make their way to the gates.
CHARACTERS:
The Narrator (aka “Me/I”) : A gorgeous, intelligent, funny, level headed curly haired girl who is practically perfect in every way. She wears jeans, flip flops, and a coral halter top.
Kate: The new girl. In town for work training with “The Narrator,” she is tall, thin, with dark brown hair and from Tennessee. She was born in England, moved to Nashville when she was 10, but sounds like she grew up in TN with her soft accent. This is her first night in St. Louis, and her first night away from her 21 month old son, wearing jean capris, sandals, and a red top.
Sarah: Short, blonde, and all around bubbly. Friends with “The Narrator” since grade school, she talks a mile a minute, is funny, opinionated, and a good dancer. Wears black gaucho pants, black sandals, and a black printed shirt.
Trish: 5’6”, blonde, speaks with a combo Michigan/New York/Midwestern accent. Says “Buh-in” instead of “button”. A college friend of “The Narrator”, a pop culture enthusiast, and girly girl. Wears jeans, flip flops, brown tank shirt.
Jaime: 5’5” ish, blonde, athletic, and co-worker of Trish. Has the hook up with various vendors at the pavilion. Wears jeans, sandals, and black printed rocker tee.
Teeny-boppers (various): 75% of the concert going population. Many have “I Love You, Kelly” signs, wear leggings and sparkles, have voices that attempt to pierce eardrums, and try to avoid their mothers.
Kelly Clarkson: The one, the only. Wears jeans, a printed tee, a black glove, and a simple, adorable brunette bob.
Story:
We pull into our parking spot, following the direction of the parking lot attendants. A car pulls up next to us, and we begin to laugh as we see the epitome of what we will be dealing with throughout the night: A mom, doing her best late 30’s imitation of a pop star in slicked hair, tight jeans, and a tank top, and two 8 year old girls in sparkle tops, jean skirts, and glitter.
The youngest in my car is 24, the oldest 30. We are here, all five of us, for Kelly Clarkson - the 1st American Idol, and in my opinion, the ONLY American Idol. Laughing we step out of the car, gather our blankets to sit on for our lawn seat tickets, and start making our way to the gates. Hordes of teenage girls gather together, all in jean skirts, leggings, tanks and all tanned to a crisp. They seem to swarm to a stage outside the gate, a small stage where a young girl is holding a microphone and singing “Breakaway.” A stage for (brace yourself) “Kellyoke.”
We shield our ears and make it through the gates. Suddenly, Jaime’s phone begins to ring. She digs it out, and answers: “Hello?.....Really?!.....Okay, which booth are you at?.....Where’s the Ford booth?..... Okay, awesome! Thanks!” She flips her phone off with a smile, and tells us to follow her. After a bit, she begins to wave at a blonde girl holding a giant Ford bag, and wearing a Ford baseball cap. Jaime and Ford Girl hug, and then FG starts handing us all Ford stickers and key chains. The next thing we know, another FG walks up, and gives us all tickets to seats in row DD - center stage, 30 rows back, level with the stage due to stadium seating. We all attempt not to jump up and down and we hurry to our seats. They are fantastic, and make us all very happy. Several rounds of “This is AWESOME!” and “Ohmigod, I LOVE Kelly Clarkson” are heard before we calm down and begin to once again look down on the teenage gallery happening around us. We purchase beers and frozen hurricanes and settle in for the show.
The lights dim, and Rooney, the opening act, comes out on stage. All their songs sound the same, although the 14 year olds next to us yelled through their braces about their love for Rooney and informed us that “Rooney was like totally on the O.C.! Oh my GAWD!” They finish, and it’s time to give away a Ford Fusion. A mother and her daughter win and get to go back stage to meet Kelly Clarkson. I scream when Kelly appears on the screen, and at this point I regress back to 18. It’s just the first of many steps back in time.
“She’s a BRUNETTE!” Sarah yells, while bouncing in her seat and slapping my arm. Trish nods: “I love her haircut…. I think I need it.” I continue to scream.
About 10 minutes later, the lights dim. Sarah and I jump to our feet, the others soon follow. At this moment I go back to 16 years old. “You Shook Me All Night Long” begins to blare across the speakers. I feel proud at this moment, as I was one of 10% of the concert-going population that knew all the words. Sarah and I dance our asses off, and then suddenly the stage is back-lit, and there is the silhouette of Kelly Clarkson, belting out “Addicted to You”. We die and go to heaven. We sing and dance and scream and act out “Behind These Hazel Eyes,” “Because of You,” “Help Me”, “Beautiful Disaster,” “Home,” “Shelter,” “Go,” “Maybe,” “Yeah,” “Walk Away,” “Miss Independent.” Kelly speaks to the audience and struggles to read a sign from a girl about 15 rows back. It says “Can I have a hug?” and my love for Kelly is cemented when she says, “Oh, yeah, sure! Come on up!” Two young girls run up on stage and get hugs from Kelly. “Girl, you wanted a hug! That was more of a pat! Try it again!” she says.
We are drenched in sweat from dancing and singing for a solid hour and 15 minutes when Kelly walks off stage. At this point we’re at 14 years of age, giggling and fitting right in with the throngs around us. We’re waiting for the encore. Suddenly there’s a flash of light to my right. I look over and there is Kelly Clarkson on a platform, 3 ROWS FROM ME! This is the moment where I complete my transition to a 13 year old , braces wearing, neon loving teenager. I jump up and down, screaming, hitting Sarah and waving my hands around. Trish tried to get around the girl in front of her for a picture. Kate keeps hitting my arm and pointing at Miss Kelly Clarkson. She sings “Breakaway,” and then goes straight into “Since You’ve Been Gone” which sends us into a frenzy. Suddenly there is blue sparkle confetti shooting from the stage and we all start laughing and jumping, and then she is gone. Just like that.
We begin the slow walk to the car, during which I gradually gain back my 12 years of wisdom and age. We pile into the car to sit in traffic. We watch the 13-year olds in the parking lot dancing outside their car and in their back seats, and comment on the fact that they can do that because they don’t have to get up and go to work in the morning. Kate steps outside the car because she feels sick from the hurricane she had since she just “doesn’t drink like she used to.” The girls become sleepy and begin to discuss the drive home. I drop the girls off, and head to my apartment where I fold clothes before getting into bed, and sleeping until I wake at 6 a.m. I wake up feeling 30 instead of 25.
My voice is shot, and my energy zapped, but my night with Kelly Clarkson, and my regression to a carefree time, still makes my heart happy.
CHARACTERS:
The Narrator (aka “Me/I”) : A gorgeous, intelligent, funny, level headed curly haired girl who is practically perfect in every way. She wears jeans, flip flops, and a coral halter top.
Kate: The new girl. In town for work training with “The Narrator,” she is tall, thin, with dark brown hair and from Tennessee. She was born in England, moved to Nashville when she was 10, but sounds like she grew up in TN with her soft accent. This is her first night in St. Louis, and her first night away from her 21 month old son, wearing jean capris, sandals, and a red top.
Sarah: Short, blonde, and all around bubbly. Friends with “The Narrator” since grade school, she talks a mile a minute, is funny, opinionated, and a good dancer. Wears black gaucho pants, black sandals, and a black printed shirt.
Trish: 5’6”, blonde, speaks with a combo Michigan/New York/Midwestern accent. Says “Buh-in” instead of “button”. A college friend of “The Narrator”, a pop culture enthusiast, and girly girl. Wears jeans, flip flops, brown tank shirt.
Jaime: 5’5” ish, blonde, athletic, and co-worker of Trish. Has the hook up with various vendors at the pavilion. Wears jeans, sandals, and black printed rocker tee.
Teeny-boppers (various): 75% of the concert going population. Many have “I Love You, Kelly” signs, wear leggings and sparkles, have voices that attempt to pierce eardrums, and try to avoid their mothers.
Kelly Clarkson: The one, the only. Wears jeans, a printed tee, a black glove, and a simple, adorable brunette bob.
Story:
We pull into our parking spot, following the direction of the parking lot attendants. A car pulls up next to us, and we begin to laugh as we see the epitome of what we will be dealing with throughout the night: A mom, doing her best late 30’s imitation of a pop star in slicked hair, tight jeans, and a tank top, and two 8 year old girls in sparkle tops, jean skirts, and glitter.
The youngest in my car is 24, the oldest 30. We are here, all five of us, for Kelly Clarkson - the 1st American Idol, and in my opinion, the ONLY American Idol. Laughing we step out of the car, gather our blankets to sit on for our lawn seat tickets, and start making our way to the gates. Hordes of teenage girls gather together, all in jean skirts, leggings, tanks and all tanned to a crisp. They seem to swarm to a stage outside the gate, a small stage where a young girl is holding a microphone and singing “Breakaway.” A stage for (brace yourself) “Kellyoke.”
We shield our ears and make it through the gates. Suddenly, Jaime’s phone begins to ring. She digs it out, and answers: “Hello?.....Really?!.....Okay, which booth are you at?.....Where’s the Ford booth?..... Okay, awesome! Thanks!” She flips her phone off with a smile, and tells us to follow her. After a bit, she begins to wave at a blonde girl holding a giant Ford bag, and wearing a Ford baseball cap. Jaime and Ford Girl hug, and then FG starts handing us all Ford stickers and key chains. The next thing we know, another FG walks up, and gives us all tickets to seats in row DD - center stage, 30 rows back, level with the stage due to stadium seating. We all attempt not to jump up and down and we hurry to our seats. They are fantastic, and make us all very happy. Several rounds of “This is AWESOME!” and “Ohmigod, I LOVE Kelly Clarkson” are heard before we calm down and begin to once again look down on the teenage gallery happening around us. We purchase beers and frozen hurricanes and settle in for the show.
The lights dim, and Rooney, the opening act, comes out on stage. All their songs sound the same, although the 14 year olds next to us yelled through their braces about their love for Rooney and informed us that “Rooney was like totally on the O.C.! Oh my GAWD!” They finish, and it’s time to give away a Ford Fusion. A mother and her daughter win and get to go back stage to meet Kelly Clarkson. I scream when Kelly appears on the screen, and at this point I regress back to 18. It’s just the first of many steps back in time.
“She’s a BRUNETTE!” Sarah yells, while bouncing in her seat and slapping my arm. Trish nods: “I love her haircut…. I think I need it.” I continue to scream.
About 10 minutes later, the lights dim. Sarah and I jump to our feet, the others soon follow. At this moment I go back to 16 years old. “You Shook Me All Night Long” begins to blare across the speakers. I feel proud at this moment, as I was one of 10% of the concert-going population that knew all the words. Sarah and I dance our asses off, and then suddenly the stage is back-lit, and there is the silhouette of Kelly Clarkson, belting out “Addicted to You”. We die and go to heaven. We sing and dance and scream and act out “Behind These Hazel Eyes,” “Because of You,” “Help Me”, “Beautiful Disaster,” “Home,” “Shelter,” “Go,” “Maybe,” “Yeah,” “Walk Away,” “Miss Independent.” Kelly speaks to the audience and struggles to read a sign from a girl about 15 rows back. It says “Can I have a hug?” and my love for Kelly is cemented when she says, “Oh, yeah, sure! Come on up!” Two young girls run up on stage and get hugs from Kelly. “Girl, you wanted a hug! That was more of a pat! Try it again!” she says.
We are drenched in sweat from dancing and singing for a solid hour and 15 minutes when Kelly walks off stage. At this point we’re at 14 years of age, giggling and fitting right in with the throngs around us. We’re waiting for the encore. Suddenly there’s a flash of light to my right. I look over and there is Kelly Clarkson on a platform, 3 ROWS FROM ME! This is the moment where I complete my transition to a 13 year old , braces wearing, neon loving teenager. I jump up and down, screaming, hitting Sarah and waving my hands around. Trish tried to get around the girl in front of her for a picture. Kate keeps hitting my arm and pointing at Miss Kelly Clarkson. She sings “Breakaway,” and then goes straight into “Since You’ve Been Gone” which sends us into a frenzy. Suddenly there is blue sparkle confetti shooting from the stage and we all start laughing and jumping, and then she is gone. Just like that.
We begin the slow walk to the car, during which I gradually gain back my 12 years of wisdom and age. We pile into the car to sit in traffic. We watch the 13-year olds in the parking lot dancing outside their car and in their back seats, and comment on the fact that they can do that because they don’t have to get up and go to work in the morning. Kate steps outside the car because she feels sick from the hurricane she had since she just “doesn’t drink like she used to.” The girls become sleepy and begin to discuss the drive home. I drop the girls off, and head to my apartment where I fold clothes before getting into bed, and sleeping until I wake at 6 a.m. I wake up feeling 30 instead of 25.
My voice is shot, and my energy zapped, but my night with Kelly Clarkson, and my regression to a carefree time, still makes my heart happy.